


You Can Only Take What You Can Carry

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AUs, F/F, Prompts that get way way too long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1609436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skimmons AU. In which Jemma goes into witness protection and Skye is hired/recruited to be her personal bodyguard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so. This prompt was given to me via tumblr and I have no idea how it ended up as long as it did. Clearly someone needs to monitor everything that I do until I can learn to write something short and concise. But until that day happens...here we go. So, just for the record, I really know nothing about witness protection and detectiving or anything of that nature. I just kinda did my own thing. Call it creative license I guess. I don't think this story *exactly* follows the prompt but hopefully it's close enough. I was reading "In the Woods" by Tana French while working on this prompt so I think that has a lot to do with how it turned out. Also the title comes from the song "If There's a Rocket Tie Me To It" by Snow Patrol and here ends this very long author's note.

"G6."

"Damn it."

Skye is still in mid-fist pump when the door to the break room bangs open and Coulson is standing in the foyer. Skye lowers her arm and slinks down in her seat.

Coulson looks at her and then Ward, an expression of fatherly disapproval on his face. He makes a great show of checking his watch. "Oh. You two are still on duty. In that case, would you mind acting like it and coming down to the interrogation room, please?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, just turns and walks back down the hall, presumably toward the aforementioned interrogation room. Skye stifles a laugh and gets to her feet, stretching her arms over her head. "You're lucky. I was totally kicking your ass."

Ward pokes her in the stomach and Skye lets out her breath in a whoosh. "You were not, rookie." He says as they walk out of the break room and down the hallway. "I demand a rematch."

Skye gives him a look. "Excuse me, Detective Ward, some of us are actually trying to work here."

Only the fact that they've reached the interrogation room stops Ward from continuing their little exchange. That, and the expression on Coulson's face that suggests that he's most definitely not in the mood for any of their shenanigans. It's getting close to the end of the day and Coulson looks like he's more ready to go home than Skye currently feels but she suddenly has the sinking feeling that they aren't going to be leaving anytime soon. 

Especially when she glances into the interrogation room. There's a woman sitting in one of the uncomfortable metal chairs and Skye thinks she's maybe only a few years older than she is. Her hair is falling out of the ponytail that she's pulled it back in, hanging in twisted, frizzy strands across her cheeks and neck. Her eyes are watery and red and Skye can see her hands are shaking. But it's the streak of blood on her forehead and the splatters on her otherwise pristine lab coat that really get Skye's attention. 

Skye glances over at Coulson, arching an eyebrow. "What happened to her?"

"Her name is Jemma Simmons." Coulson explains. They watch as Tripp walks into the room, bringing with him a cup of coffee and a Coke. "She showed up about ten minutes ago and the officer on duty couldn't make heads or tails of what she was saying. Apparently one of her colleagues was just murdered, or so she says. Which is why she's in our interrogation room right now."

Ward crosses his arms over his chest. Skye has seen this particular posture before; it's his big, bad detective man pose. "So why are we here, sir?" He questions. "Do you want us to go check out the alleged crime scene?"

Coulson waves his hand dismissively. "No, I already sent May down there. I want you two to talk to her, see what you can figure out."

Skye nods, watching the woman through the double-sided mirror. She hasn't touched the coffee that Tripp brought for her and she's flicking the tab on the soda can absently, her hands still shaking. Whatever Tripp is saying to her, Skye can't hear and Jemma Simmons doesn't appear to be listening.

She knows why Coulson called them down here. She and Ward might not have been working together for more than a few months but they've already garnered quite the reputation for their success in the interrogation room. Ward has more experience; he's been a detective for far longer and knows exactly what to say and what buttons to push. But Skye is better at reading people, at sensing their lies or figuring out which thread to tug.

"So what's the story?" Ward questions, turning his attention toward the interrogation room. Skye can tell by the way that he sets his jaw that he'd much rather be with May.

"Like I said, she showed up a few minutes ago, talking about her murdered colleague. She works for Shield Research and Development. At least, that's what she says."

Skye arches an eyebrow. "SRD." She repeats. "Really?"

Coulson shrugs. "So she says." He repeats. "But she came in with a bunch of folders and files and they all had the SRD logo on them. Plus, you know, the coat." He gives them a look that suggests they should have seen this themselves. Jemma's blood-splattered coat does, in fact, bear the Shield Research and Development logo.

"What do you think, sir?" Ward asks.

"Too early to say. We'll know more when May gets to the scene. And when you two talk to her." Coulson says. "Maybe go a little easy on her, we don't want to scare her."

Obviously this is directed toward Ward, who has a tendency to go bad-cop even when they're just dealing with witnesses. But Skye gets his meaning well enough all the same. This isn't the first time they've heard the name Shield Research and Development; this isn't the first case that had ties to the company and then, subsequently, dissolved into nothing. They've been after that company and, more importantly, the bigwigs in charge, for a while. So Coulson's message is clear: don't fuck this up.

When Skye and Ward enter the interrogation room, both Tripp and Jemma Simmons look over at them. Ward gives Tripp a nod and Tripp gets up from his chair, leaving the room and easing the door closed behind him. Skye assumes his previous position, folding her hands on the table top as she looks at this Jemma Simmons.

Jemma looks back at her and Skye has definitely seen the look in her eyes plenty of times during her months on the squad: shock, sadness and something bordering on animalistic terror. Skye wants to assure her that everything will be okay and she doesn't have anything to worry about. But she doesn't like lying.

So instead, she says, "I'm Detective Brody and this is my partner, Detective Ward. How are you doing?"

Predictably, Jemma Simmons bursts into tears. Ward grimaces and Skye shoots him a killer glare. She reaches across the table and puts a hand over Jemma's trembling one.

"You can talk to us." Skye assures her. "Tell us what happened."

The command seems to have the desired affect on Jemma. She wipes the tears off her cheeks and takes a deep, shuddery breath, seeming to center herself. The task makes it easier for her to control herself; it gives her something else to focus on. Skye has seen this before too.

Jemma explains the circumstances around her arrival with a detached, clinical tone. Her eyes are far away and her hands still shake but at least her words are easy enough to understand. She and her colleague were working on SRD sanctioned research when they'd stumbled upon something they definitely weren't supposed to see. Skye is surprised to learn that this stumbling actually took place two months before and that they had been continuing to stumble their way through plenty of files and information they shouldn't have been stepping close to. Tonight it had all come to a head. Jemma hadn't been able to save her partner but she had managed to get out of the building with some of files and had come straight to the precinct with the murderers in hot pursuit. 

"So what was in those files?" Ward questions, leaning against the side of the table. "What would have possibly made them want to murder their own employees?"

Skye can tell from his tone that he's skeptical of the whole story. It definitely wouldn't be the craziest tale they'd ever heard. People kill each other for so many reasons; Skye knows this better than anyone. But there's something that makes her believe Jemma. She doesn't look like a murderer; she looks like someone who just lost her best friend.

Jemma sighs, her breath hitching. "I...I...I..." Her voice wobbles and she sighs again, closing her eyes. "Several of the experiments that they have going on are definitely not legal. They involve different things...eugenics and...it sounds like something out of a science fiction movie." She says. "But more than that. Information about payoffs and...lobbyists and politicians pushing their agenda forward in Washington. It's all here...well, not all of it..." Jemma closes her eyes. "I wasn't exactly paying attention to what I was taking." 

"So you think these people, allegedly, killed your colleague and would have killed you too because you found out all this information?" Skye questions.

Jemma narrows her eyes slightly. "Not allegedly, Detective." And there's a spark in her eye, an inkling of the fire that Skye figures probably got her into this problem in the first place.

Skye shrugs but nods anyway. It's not worth it arguing about nuance.

Ward stands up again, pacing around the room. "What made you keep looking into your bosses, even though it was obviously information you weren't supposed to have?" He questions. "Why not just act like you'd never seen it?"

Jemma lifts her head, looking over at Ward and that spark is still there in her eyes. "I am a scientist. It is my duty to help people, to do what's right and ethical." She shakes her head. "None of this is ethical."

There's a knock on the double-sided mirror and Skye gets to her feet, excusing herself and Ward from the interrogation room. Coulson is standing where he was before and he looks at Jemma for a beat before turning his attention toward them.

"They wouldn't even let May into the building." Coulson says. "Told her she needed a warrant, or clearance or something. And on her way back, May says that she's sure there was someone following her. She even took a longer route back here and the car followed her the whole way."

Skye can't help but glance over her shoulder at Jemma, with her wide, fear stricken eyes and the blood all over her skin and clothes. She should know better, given her experiences on the squad, but Skye believes her. Every single word.

"If this is real, if everything in those files checks out…if this murder checks out, then this could be everything we need to finally bring Pope and all his lackeys down." Coulson is saying when Skye finally pulls her attention away. "We can have her testify, maybe even go back to try and get more information-"

Skye shakes her head. "That will never happen. They'll never let her get even close to that building again." She points out. "Why do you think that car was following May?"

Coulson nods, relenting. "Well even with just what we've got, she's still valuable. If there really is something going on here, we can't take chances. They're going to try and get to her and we can't let that happen."

Skye nods her agreement because it seems pretty cut and dry to her. They're the good guys, they're supposed to protect people like Jemma Simmons from the bad guys.

She just has no idea how she ends up being the one doing the protecting.

It's not like she has experience in this sort of thing. She's a detective, not a bodyguard. But Coulson seems to think that Skye is the best woman for the job, despite Skye's protests that she should be out working with May and Ward, trying to figure out what's really going on in SRD.

"Who knows how long this thing is going to last." Coulson says when she protests the assignment in the briefing room in front of the rest of the members on the squad. "Just keep an eye on her."

In the privacy of his office, Coulson tells her, "Some of the stuff in those reports involves paying off people to look the other way. Politicians, police, government officials. Everyone. If we have a revolving door of officers keeping an eye on her, who knows who could walk through that door." 

Skye thinks this makes sense. Coulson trusts her and she's flattered. But that doesn't mean that she wants bodyguard duty. "I'm supposed to be solving murders." She protests weakly, knowing the argument is already lost.

Coulson just shrugs. "Talk to her. See if she can tell you anything else."

Skye just nods and Coulson tells her to go home and pack a bag and she tries not to be disheartened when he can't give her a specific time length to pack for.

For her part, Jemma Simmons seems to have accepted everything that's happening to her without protest. The fight that Skye saw hints of before seems to have drained away completely and she's pale-faced and tired, shuffling from one room to the next whenever anyone directs her to do so. Skye explains that they're going to a safe house, one of the secure addresses that they keep on hand for such situations. It's an apartment in the heart of the city, small and nondescript and on the fifth floor so it's hard to get to but not impossible to get out of.

Jemma just nods as Skye explains all this and how they're going to do everything they can to keep her safe and bring the murderers to justice. It sounds trite, even to Skye's own ears but Jemma nods and sighs and glances out the window as the streets pass by.

When they get to the apartment, Skye does a thorough check of the rooms and the hallway and the stairwells. The apartment itself is small; there's only one bedroom and there's a tiny bathroom that has a toilet and a shower and not much else. The kitchen and living room seem to be one in the same, but there's a foldout couch and a decent sized TV in the living room and there's a bookshelf loaded with movies and books and boardgames. Clearly whoever stocked the place did so thinking that the occupants were going to be in for the long haul.

Skye slides her gun back into its holster once she's satisfied that there's nothing amiss. Jemma has been watching her silently, her tired eyes tracking Skye's every move. "We should be good." Skye says brightly. "It's all just procedure."

"Do you think...no one will come?" Jemma questions quietly. "No one will...find me?"

Skye sits down on the couch beside her and resists the urge to put her arms around Jemma. She has no idea where this impulse comes from; she is definitely not a hugger so why does she feel like hugging this near perfect stranger? There’s just something in her eyes, something that constricts Skye’s heart. She pushes that sensation aside. "They won't." She says instead, forcefully. "I've got you covered."

Jemma looks at her doubtfully but she doesn't voice her skepticism. Skye appreciates that, at least.

It's been almost thirty-six hours since Skye slept but she forces herself to stay awake, at least for a while longer. Especially when Jemma drifts off to sleep, slumped over on the couch. Even still, her body looks heavy with exhaustion, her face knotted up, her shoulders tense. Skye picks one of the books from the shelf but it's harder to concentrate than she thought and soon her eyes are drooping and her head is nodding forward.

The sound of Jemma screaming wakes Skye up like someone fired a gun. She jerks upright, her heart hammering loudly, already reaching for her gun before she realizes what's going on. Jemma is dreaming and her screams have given way to whimpers, her face still twisted from the fear of what she's seeing in her mind.

Skye leans forward to shake her awake and at first Jemma looks reassured, a gasp of relief escaping her lips as she opens her eyes. But then she sees Skye and registers her surroundings and the events of the past day.

"I thought...I thought it was a dream." Jemma's voice shakes as she blinks the tears from her eyes. "It's not...it's not a dream."

Skye feels that clinching in her chest again. It's not a reaction that she's used to when working a case. Not to say that she's completely heartless or closed off; it's safer to be that way though. They'd never get anywhere if they had to stop all the time to sob for the toddler killed by her mother or the wife stabbed by her husband while she was sleeping. Crying doesn't solve murders and bring justice.

But Skye still feels that ache for Jemma. She can relate all too well to that sensation, to the longing for the blissful ignorance that sleep can bring.

"Sorry." Skye mumbles because she doesn't really know what else to say.

Jemma just sighs and pushes herself into a sitting position. "I'm going to have a shower." She announces and Skye just nods.

Once Jemma is gone, Skye sighs and leans her head back again, closing her eyes. She wonders if the real reason she hates this assignment so much is because she doesn't have any idea how to comfort Jemma and make her feel better about the fact that her best friend is dead and someone out there wants to kill her. Not that Skye thinks you really can make someone feel better about that sort of thing but still. She feels woefully unprepared for the job. 

To keep from falling asleep again, Skye noses around in the kitchen, taking stock of things. Nothing too appetizing, seeing as the cabinets and fridge are bereft of things with an expiration date. She listens to the shower running, wondering if she's supposed to be standing guard or something? Apparently this is just another job she's woefully unprepared for. 

The shower shuts off eventually, so Skye figures that Jemma isn't in there being murdered by some thug from SRD. She's munching on a protein bar out of sheer boredom when she hears the unmistakable sound of someone crying. And even though it's not the desperate sounds of someone pleading for her life, Skye still walks into the bedroom with her hand on her gun.

Jemma is sitting on the floor in a towel and when she looks up at Skye, she looks childlike and lost, too small to face the situation she's suddenly found herself in.

"My clothes." Jemma explains when she sees Skye in the doorway. "I don't have any clothes that aren't..."

Skye gets her meaning anyway. That aren't covered with the blood of my murdered best friend.

Even though Skye is pretty sure it's against protocol, she agrees to take Jemma to the Target a block over. The height difference between them leaves Jemma looking a little comical in the clothes of Skye's that she's borrowed but in a way that makes Skye want to smile instead of laugh. While Jemma gathers shirts and jeans from the shelves, Skye studies the people around them. No one pays them any attention and Skye briefly wonders if this whole witness protection thing is for nothing. Maybe SRD is cutting their losses. Maybe they're circling the wagons to attack from a legal front. Or assuming that Jemma isn't going to say or do anything at all. Or maybe Jemma's story is just a very involved way to cover up her own murderous tendencies.

Skye doesn't believe that part but still. You never know.

After Jemma has a few necessary clothing items, they turn their focus on stuff to stock the kitchen. Skye certainly hopes that Coulson will see this trip as a necessary job expense. 

They're both loaded down with bags by the time they leave and Skye immediately regrets this hindsight when she locks eyes with a guy smoking a cigarette by the door. There's nothing overtly threatening about him, nothing that suggests that he's at all inclined to kill someone in front of a Target. But Skye learned long before she joined the squad to trust her instincts and her spidey-senses are tingling.

The guy just looks at her and smirks, taking a drag on his cigarette. Skye eyes him wearily, moving to stand in front of Jemma. "Let's go." She says forcefully and Jemma doesn't say anything or question the command or even look around to try and figure out what's going on. She just goes, all squared-shoulders and resignation.

The guy doesn't follow them but Skye gets the meaning all the same.

When they get back to the apartment, Skye can tell that Jemma is jittery, anxiously scanning the eaves and corners, tense and ready to jump at shadows. Skye digs through their bags until she finds the candy bar she snuck in for herself and hands it to Jemma. "Here. A little pick-me-up."

Jemma takes the candy bar, offering Skye a tentative smile. "Thank you."

Skye just smiles back and goes to see about the rest of the groceries.

* * * *

They settle on making spaghetti with garlic bread for dinner and even though Jemma doesn’t talk much –not that Skye can blame her- she’s still companionable enough. Or maybe it’s just that Skye isn’t used to having someone hanging around with her. Once she leaves the station, it’s just her in her small apartment with paper thin walls and neighbors on one side that love to fight and neighbors on the other who don’t seem to do anything other than play Call of Duty and Halo with the volume on their television turned all the way up. It’s not the takeout and being alone most nights that is out of the ordinary for Skye. It’s standing in the kitchen with someone beside her that strikes her as odd.

Skye lets Jemma have control over the remote, even though Jemma doesn’t seem any more interested in watching TV than Skye is, and they eat side by side on the couch with their bowls balanced on their laps.

Skye is actually getting pretty invested in the documentary about bees when she feels Jemma staring at her and Skye lowers her fork, giving the other woman a skeptical look. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” is all that Jemma says, her gaze flicking down to the food on her plate. She hasn’t eaten much of it.

Skye just stares at her. “You’re sorry?” She repeats. “Why?”

Jemma shrugs. “I’m sure this isn’t what you’re supposed to be doing.” She mumbles. “You’re a detective, not a babysitter.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Skye waves her hand, dismissing the notion. “Keeping you safe is what matters right now.”

Jemma just turns her attention back to her food, twirling the strands of pasta around her fork over and over again. Skye watches her for a few seconds before giving her attention back to the bees. Jemma is more interesting but she doesn’t seem interested in carrying on a conversation, so that’s that.

Skye can’t help but wonder how long this whole thing is going to last.

* * * *

Skye is still rubbing the sleep out of eyes the following morning when Coulson calls to tell her that he’s dropping by. He’s one of the few people who knows where they’re at, just in case his suspicions about SRD having eyes everywhere are founded. He brings coffee and bagels and Skye slathers hers with cream cheese while Coulson updates her on the case. Or rather, the lack thereof. They haven’t made any headway in the past forty-eight hours; they haven’t been able to get a warrant because the judge doesn’t think they have substantial evidence and watching the SRD building that Jemma apparently fled from isn’t yielding any results either. And, to make matters more complicated, Jemma’s partner apparently bought a plane ticket for Colorado and left two hours ago.

“Could have been someone else.” Skye points out around a mouthful of bagel. “That kind of stuff is easy enough to fake.” In fact, if someone handed her a computer, she could probably have Jemma on a flight to France in the next half hour. Actually, that might not be a bad idea.

Coulson just shrugs. “Possibly.” He glances over his shoulder, toward the cracked bedroom door, before looking back toward Skye. “Have you gotten any more out of her, yet?”

“She’s not exactly the most talkative person right now.” Skye informs him, finishing her coffee. “I mean her best friend was just mur-”

She stops when the door swings open and Jemma steps from the bedroom and into the kitchen, which doesn’t take very long thanks to the small space they’re working with. Skye clears her throat, feeling guilty all of the sudden.

Jemma doesn’t say anything. She just smiles politely when Coulson offers her coffee and breakfast but she doesn’t move to take anything. “How are you doing, Miss Simmons?” Coulson questions, a sympathetic smile in place.

“Wonderfully.” Jemma informs him, her tone sardonic. She leaves the kitchen again, walking back to the bedroom and punctuating her sarcastic remark with the slamming of the door.

Skye gives Coulson a look and he just returns it, looking far too much like a dad warning his children to play nice for Skye’s liking. It’s not that Skye doesn’t like Jemma. It’s not that she isn’t trying to be understanding and patient and sympathetic. It’s just that she suddenly feels exactly like what Jemma called her the night before: a babysitter.

“I just want to help her.” Skye confesses, finishing her bagel. “And I really don’t feel like I can do that holed up in this apartment.”

“You’re all she’s got keeping her safe right now.” Coulson points out. “You are helping her.”

Skye thinks that sounds like a pretty big job.

* * * *

Not long after Coulson leaves, Jemma apparently decides that she’s had enough of sequestrating herself in the bedroom and comes out to join Skye.

“Is it any good?” Jemma questions tentatively and when Skye gives her a blank look, she points at the book in Skye’s hands. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

Skye sets the book aside because she’s mostly spent the past hour reading the same page over and over again while she thinks about Jemma and her dead friend and whether this whole thing is really what it appears to be. “You aren’t.” Skye assures her with a smile, patting the empty space on the couch beside her.

They spend the majority of the day alternating between watching television and blowing their way through the collection of board games, much to Skye’s surprise. She’s pretty sure she hasn’t played Candyland or Jenga since her days at St. Agnes. Skye insists that they watch Superbad when they find it playing on one of the channels and feels strangely validated when Jemma lets out soft little laughs every now and then.

Without thinking, Skye takes off her holster and sets it on the coffee table in an effort to make herself more comfortable and Jemma’s eyes immediately fall on the weapon. Skye instantly feels like an ass because Jemma’s partner was just murdered, probably by a couple well-placed bullets, and here she is, tossing her gun around like an idiot.

“Have you ever shot anyone?” Jemma questions, her words surprising Skye.

“No.” Skye shakes her head. “Normally just drawing it is enough to make people rethink their life choices.”

Jemma manages a bare bones smile. “Is that why you decided to become a detective?” She questions. “So you could carry around a gun?”

Skye thinks that maybe, maybe, Jemma is actually teasing her right now. “Oh, of course.” She smirks. “That and ladies really love a woman in uniform.”

It’s not the first time that Skye has ever been asked that question. She’s used to giving a variety of answers, none of which are close to the truth.

* * * *

Skye has never been a fan of monotony. Her teachers were always sending notes back to the nuns at St. Agnes, complaining about Skye’s constant fidgeting and the fact that she had a tendency to fall asleep in class. Being on the squad pretty much guarantees that there’s hardly ever a dull moment. She can’t exactly say the same for witness protection duty.

It’s not that Skye isn’t enjoying spending her time with Jemma. But there’s only so many hands of gin rummy that she feels like a person can play before they start to go insane. Even a quick walk around the block is definitely out of the question, seeing as they’re supposed to be staying holed up for the time being (and yeah, Coulson already chewed her out for the jaunt to Target).

It’s been almost three days since their initial arrival and Skye can see that the cabin fever is starting to get to Jemma too. Or maybe it’s just a combination of things. Her penchant for standing by the window and staring out at the street below with a blank expression on her face quickly turned into sitting on the couch and staring at the wall with that same blank expression when Skye cautioned her against standing too close to the window. It might have been overkill to use that word “sniper” but Skye is pretty sure that this is one of those better safe than sorry situations.

Especially if Coulson’s suspicions that the person who showed up at the station the day before acting as Jemma Simmons’ panicked friend desperate to report her friend as missing was actually from SRD. SRD is clearly not interested in letting Jemma slip through their fingers and Skye has the feeling that they’d much rather just see her dead than back in their possession. Whatever it was that Jemma found in those files is clearly worries Alexander Pope enough to cause him to try and track her down.

The only thing to seems to engage Jemma for more than a few minutes at a time is talking about her work with SRD. Even though Skye doesn’t understand most of what she says, she still listens intently to Jemma’s stories, trying to follow along enough to ask follow-up questions to keep her talking. Skye is pretty sure that this is as close as she’ll get to seeing the person Jemma was before the whole mess that’s landed them in this tiny apartment. When she listens to Jemma talk about her research and the experiments that she was doing, Skye can understand why it was so important for Jemma to keep digging into the information that she so obviously shouldn’t have had.

Skye resists the urge to ask Jemma if trying to do the right thing and help others is worth dying for. Because, if she has anything to say about it, she won’t have to.

 

 

* * * *

Skye jerks awake, disoriented and afraid. She can’t figure out why until Jemma’s scream cuts through the stillness of the apartment once more. Skye practically rolls off the couch, grabbing her gun off the coffee table as she stumbles to her feet. She gets momentarily tangled in the blanket and nearly bashes her head on the edge of the table and is pretty sure that she’s just made the worst showing as a bodyguard in the history of the entire world.

Skye throws open the bedroom door and immediately takes aim, but there’s nothing to shoot except shadows. Jemma is dreaming, though judging by the way that she’s twisted up in the sheets and holding out a hand in defensive of the darkness, Skye has the feeling that it probably doesn’t seem like a dream to her.

“Jemma,” Skye says softly, resting her hand lightly on Jemma’s shoulder. “Jemma. It’s okay. Jemma.”

Jemma’s eyes snap open and she jerks upright. “Fitz!” Her breath catches in her throat as she takes in her surroundings and her shoulders heave with a barely suppressed sob.

Skye stiffens in surprise when Jemma moves toward her, pressing her face against Skye’s chest and wrapping her arms around her, her fingers digging into the space between her shoulder blades. Skye relaxes, stroking Jemma’s hair as Jemma sobs against her body. She wishes she could do more. She wishes there was something she could do. But Skye has the feeling there’s not a thing in the world that would make Jemma feel better right now.

When Jemma finally seems to have exhausted her tears, she peels herself away from Skye, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is hoarse and strained. “I…”

“Don’t.” Skye chides. She reaches up to brush Jemma’s hair away from her face, resting her palm against her skin. Skye knows that she shouldn’t, she knows that even this simple touch is a bad idea but when Jemma doesn’t move away from the touch, Skye can’t bring herself to either.

“Would you…” Jemma asks tentatively and her eyes flick toward the empty expanse of mattress beside her. “Stay?”

The small, lost look is back in Jemma’s eyes, her fear now mixed with a vulnerability of a different kind. And Skye is pretty sure that there are several codes of conduct that prohibit this sort of thing from happening but Skye has always been much better at breaking the rules than following them. So she climbs into bed beside Jemma and they don’t touch so Skye thinks that she’s not quite breaking the rules. Right?

* * * *

It kinda becomes a thing. Neither of them mention it and they definitely don’t plan for it but it happens anyway.

Skye definitely doesn’t miss sleeping on the couch.

(And, apparently, Jemma moves around a lot in her sleep. Skye quickly gets used to waking up with Jemma pressed against her; she gets used to an arm thrown across her chest or a leg draped across her own.)

(They don’t talk about that either.)

* * * *

It’s been a week since Skye has seen anything other than this tiny apartment and Jemma Simmons and while she doesn’t mind the latter, she would not be opposed to a little change of scenery. Of course, that’s still a no go, especially now that, according to Coulson, they’re going to try and start building a case against Pope and SRD and Jemma is going to be their prize witness.

Jemma has taken to reading the novels stacked on the shelves, working her way through each one in turn, muttering to herself whenever the murder mysteries mess up on what she considers to be “basic science” or when the detectives need three hundred additional pages to solve a crime that Jemma has already figured out. Skye doesn’t mind these little comments. She doesn’t mind that Jemma has a tendency to sit close to her even though there’s plenty of space on the couch for the two of them. She doesn’t mind when Jemma reads passages out loud just to Skye can appreciate the ridiculousness of the plotlines.

She doesn’t really mind much when it has to do with Jemma.

And she has no idea how that happened.

Rather than use all her downtime to try and figure it out, Skye just spends her time playing a lot of Flappy Bird on her phone. She’s close to beating her high score when a text message comes in and throws everything out of whack, causing the little pixilated bird to crash and burn. Skye just barely manages to swallow down the litany of curses that threaten to burst free. 

Her annoyance only increases when she sees that it’s from Ward. If it’s some stupid message, she’s going to be pissed. Apparently her desire for outside contact is suspended when she’s in the middle of playing Flappy Bird.

Any idea of when you’re coming back? The message reads. Not exactly worthy of interrupting Flappy Bird but Skye does kinda miss the squad. Especially her partner.

Kinda.

Why? You don’t actually miss me, do you? She smiles to herself as she types the response.

No, of course not. Ward’s reply comes quickly. Just thought you’d be going a little stir crazy by now. Where does Coulson have you stashed anyway?

Some crappy apartment on 15th Street. Skye feels a little guilty calling her home away from home crappy. It does have a certain charm, despite its close quarters. Though, Skye has the feeling that very little of the charm actually has to do with the apartment itself. It probably has a great deal to do with the company.

They exchange a few more texts before Skye gets distracted by another one of Jemma’s rants; she’s definitely more adorable than Ward.

(Not that Skye would ever admit that.)

(Okay maybe she would, but not out loud.)

Skye is not surprised when Jemma’s rant about who the real murderer is turns out to be right on the money and Jemma doesn’t seem all that surprised. Instead she just shakes her head at the characters in the book and clucks her tongue. “And all of that could have been avoided if you’d just used your heads.” She chides.

Skye smirks and thinks that whole adorable thing again. “You should totally join the squad.” She teases. “We’d solve all our cases in no time.”

“Well, it does seem like I’m in the market for a new job.” Jemma remarks. “I have the feeling I’ve been fired.”

Skye thinks this is the first time that she’s ever seen Jemma smile. Like sincerely smile and the fact that she’s laughing at her own joke somehow makes it even better. She wonders how it’s taken her this long to realize how beautiful Jemma is.

Definitely a dangerous observation. Kevin Costner would obviously approve. But Skye isn’t sure that Coulson would feel the same way.


	2. Part Two

Jemma is in the kitchen making herself a bowl of cereal while Skye is still trying to wake up (she is definitely not a morning person in spite of the odd hours she works now) when there’s a knock at the door. Jemma immediately tenses, glancing over at Skye with a questioning look on her face. “Detective Coulson?”

Skye furrows her brow, studying the door with renewed interest. “Maybe.” She says, hoping that her voice doesn’t betray the doubt and caution that she feels. She knows it’s not Coulson; he’s texted her prior to his arrival every time that he’s stopped by. And she doesn’t think that anyone else knows their exact location, though she’d assumed that went for SRD as well. But now she’s not so sure.

But she doesn’t want to worry Jemma unnecessarily. Not that that stops her from getting off the couch and half untucking her gun from its holster. Skye peers through the peephole but the image is distorted and all she can make out is the blurry suggestion of a figure on the other side. She rolls her eyes. So much for security.

The person on the other side bangs on the door once more. “Come on Skye, open up!”

Skye rolls her eyes once more and slides her gun back in place. “It’s my partner.” She mutters and she can see Jemma relax out of the corner of her eye.

Ward grins at her when Skye unlocks the collection of locks that are supposed to keep them safe from the outside world. “Donuts?” He questions, holding up the brightly colored box.

“What are you doing here?” Skye questions, though she stands aside to let him anyway. “And how did you even figure out where we were? Did Coulson send you?”

“I can’t answer that many questions without first having a cup of coffee.” Ward informs him. “Plus, you know, donuts.”

He carries the box over to the counter, ignoring Jemma still standing in the small kitchen. “And why do I get the feeling you aren’t happy to see me?” Ward gives Skye a faux-hurt look. “After I brought you breakfast and everything.”

Skye feels herself finally start to relax, all the adrenaline starting to drain from her system. They’re safe, there’s no threat to contend with. It’s just Ward and a box of delicious sugar. Skye grins at him and opens the box, taking out a donut loaded with chocolate frosting and sprinkles. Because apparently she’s five years old. She takes a bite and grins. “No, definitely happy to see you.”

Even though he has the day off, apparently Ward has elected to spend his Sunday hanging around and keeping them company. “I thought you might be losing your mind,” he says the first time that Jemma leaves the room to get something out of the bedroom, “I thought I’d stage an intervention before you went completely crazy.”

Skye just gives him an exasperated look. “I’m not that bad.” She mumbles and Ward looks skeptical. He’s been working with her long enough to know how she feels about monotony. “And it’s really not so bad.”

Ward arches an eyebrow, staring at her. “Not so bad? This place is tiny. I’m already starting to feel claustrophobic and I’ve only been here for like two hours.”

“Yeah, but-” Skye falls silent when Jemma walks back into the room, smiling faintly.

Ward must see something in her eyes because he just rolls his own, shaking his head. “Oh.”

Skye glares at him. “Oh.” She repeats. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What? Nothing.” Ward just shakes his head. “Nothing.”

It’s not exactly like she can press the issue, not with Jemma reclaiming her spot on the couch beside Skye. And maybe it’s better that she doesn’t know what’s running through Ward’s mind. She can at least feign ignorance, right?

* * * *

Ward hangs around for most of the day and even though Skye is happy to see him and hear about what’s going on with the rest of the squad –both professionally and personally because Skye has always loved a bit of juicy gossip- it’s still strange to spend time with someone who isn’t Jemma. And yeah, she knows it’s only been like nine days since they’ve been in this apartment but that’s long enough to adjust to a completely different way of living and a world that consists of four walls and one other person.

When Ward finally gets ready to leave, Skye questions, “Think you could talk to Coulson? Tell him that since we aren’t allowed to leave then he needs to go grocery shopping for us so we don’t starve to death in here?”

Ward looks at her doubtfully. “You want me to tell Coulson that he needs to go buy you shit from the store?”

Skye grins at him, batting her eyes playfully. “Please?” She gives him a puppy dog look for good measure. “If I starve, you’ll have to find a new partner.”

“Fine.” Ward grumbles, pulling the door open. “Only because I’m the best partner in the world.”

“Or something.” Skye teases as she shuts the door behind him, reengaging the half dozen locks on the door.

“Isn’t it strange?” Jemma questions, once Skye turns back around. “I was almost starting to forget that the world was still going on outside.” She shakes her head. “I know it sounds ridiculous.”

Skye just shrugs. “No it doesn’t.” She assures the other woman. “I know what you mean.”

“It’s just…” Jemma sighs. “It’s much easier to pretend like there’s nothing wrong when I’m in here. Like everything is…exactly the same as it was.” She lifts her eyes to meet Skye’s. “But it’s not.”

This time, Skye doesn’t talk herself out of stepping closer to Jemma and pulling her in for a hug. Jemma fits against her easily, her breath warm against the skin of Skye’s neck. Skye wonders if Jemma can feel the way that her heart is suddenly beating, rapid and desperate, in her chest. She certain hopes not, because it’s definitely not professional.

* * * *

This time when Jemma dreams, she doesn’t scream or cry out but her thrashing wakes Skye nonetheless and she doesn’t hesitate to reach from the woman beside her, letting her touch pull Jemma from her nightmare. Jemma sighs, trembling under Skye’s hand and Skye trails her fingers lightly through her hair and across the curve of her shoulder and elbow until she can feel Jemma start to relax, feel her breathing start to calm and her body grow still.

They’re close enough to make Skye suddenly realize how intimate it can be to share a bed with someone, to realize that there’s a difference between falling asleep and waking up pressed together and intentional closeness.

Skye brings her fingers up to brush a twist of hair off Jemma’s cheek and without thinking, she leans in closer. But suddenly there’s a distance between them that seems insurmountable because this is one of those things that shouldn’t happen, no matter how badly Skye really, really wants it to. She’s supposed to be there to protect Jemma and nothing more. Her job description doesn’t involve kissing Jemma at her most vulnerable.

So Skye just presses her lips to Jemma’s forehead instead, closing her eyes in hopes that that’ll make it easier to pretend like that’s what she meant to do all along. Jemma lets out a breath, a sigh tinged with disappointment. She moves away from Skye, shifting her position so that her back is facing her instead.

Skye thinks about explaining, about trying to make Jemma understand but it doesn’t seem to matter. Because all those words would eventually boil down into one truth: I wanted to kiss you, but I didn’t. And that’s all that really matters.

* * * *

When Skye wakes the following morning, it’s to an empty bed and the smell of coffee percolating in the kitchen. She groans, rolling over and pressing her face against her pillow. She is such an idiot.

Though, Skye quickly realizes, that wanting to cross the boundaries between her professional life into her personal life isn’t what makes her an idiot. It’s the fact that she didn’t kiss Jemma when she had the chance.

Hey, no one ever said that she was employee of the month or anything.

Jemma is in the kitchen, still dressed in her pajamas, with her hair in a messy ponytail and her back to Skye. But Skye can tell by the way that she squares her shoulders and straightens up that she knows that she isn’t alone in the kitchen any more.

“Hey,” Skye clears her throat, pursing her lips, “about last night-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jemma interrupts without turning around. Apparently the coffee maker on the counter is extremely fascinating.

“Jemma…”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jemma repeats again and this time she shifts so that she’s facing Skye. “It’s not your fault, Skye. I have a tendency to do this.” Skye arches an eyebrow, prompting Jemma to continue. “I…I can misread situations and-”

“Oh, no, that’s not-” Skye blurts out quickly and then instantly regrets her words. Maybe it would have been better if they just both went back to acting like everything was fine and they were just friends or witness and detective or whatever the hell is going on here and pretend like last night never happened.

But now that Skye is talking, it’s like she can’t stop herself. “It’s not that I don’t like you, because I really do. I definitely do. It’s just…it’s complicated, you know? And last night you were just…you seemed so vulnerable and I didn’t want to take advantage of that or go too far or whatever and I just…” She trails off and shrugs, looking at Jemma in the hopes that she can decipher some of what just came pouring out of her mouth.

Jemma is just studying her, her face impossible to read. “You didn’t want to take advantage of me.” She repeats. “How noble of you.”

Her tone is an annoying mixture of bitterness and sarcasm that Skye can’t quite figure out. So Skye just stares at her. “…thank you?”

Jemma just shakes her head, taking a step closer to Skye. “Well. I am certainly not feeling vulnerable now.”

“Great?”

It isn’t until Jemma is standing right in front of her, her eyes locked on Skye’s, that Skye realizes exactly what’s going on here. “Oh.” She says dumbly as all the pieces finally click into place.

And then she’s kissing Jemma because Skye can’t think of anything that she’d rather do. Kissing Jemma is definitely better than following all those stupid rules that seemed so important before. Nothing really seems important except for Jemma’s lips against hers and Jemma’s hands against her sides. And Skye is just fine with that.

* * * *

Skye is finding it really hard to focus on the movie she’s been trying to watch (unsuccessfully) for the past hour. Jemma is tucked against her, holding her book open with one hand while her other hand absently tangles itself in Skye’s hair, her nails occasionally brushing against her scalp. It’s one of those movies where nothing is what it seems and every little thing is a clue and for anything at all to make sense, you have to really be paying attention and filing all the information away but Skye is definitely having a very hard time successfully following narrative thanks to Jemma. Not that she’s complaining of course. Definitely not complaining.

But Skye is still trying. She’s keeping her eyes focused on the screen instead of giving into the urge to make out with Jemma on the couch like some sort of infatuated teenager. And as the detective on the screen draws his gun and steps into the abandoned mill where his old partner was found murdered two years before, someone knocks on the door to the apartment and Skye nearly jumps out of her skin.

Jemma looks up from her book, a curious expression on her face. “Perhaps it’s Detective Ward again?”

“Yeah, maybe.” It would definitely make sense, seeing as he clearly doesn’t bother to let her know he’s coming ahead of time. Skye moves away from Jemma reluctantly, heading toward the front door.

Just like with before, she can’t make out anything distinctive about the figure standing on the other side of the door but she slides back the locks anyway, nudging the door open a crack. It’s not Ward.

Skye hasn’t worked with Officer Donnie Gill all that much honestly. She’s seen him around a few crime scenes but their different job descriptions haven’t necessitated a lot of cooperation. He’s fresh out of the academy and still paying his dues: getting coffee, handing out speeding tickets, getting cats off fire escapes, that sort of thing. Skye is curious what type of grunt work could possibly involve him showing up, unannounced, at the safe house.

“Detective Brody,” Donnie mutters as he steps into the apartment when Skye moves aside, “I…” He clears his throat. “Detective Coulson told me you needed some things from the store? He sent me to get your list? And to go for you?”

It’s not just the fact that every word out of his mouth sounds like a question that makes Skye study him closely. It’s the fact that Coulson would never give their location to a gopher instead of just filling Skye’s request himself. It’s the way that his eyes keep flicking toward Jemma, watching him intently from the couch. It’s the way his hand is shaking as it hovers next to his sidearm.

“Sure.” Skye says, keeping her voice level, smiling at the younger boy. “If you want to wait in the hallway, I can grab you our list.”

Donnie glances over at Skye, shaking his head slightly. “I…I can’t?” His gaze returns to Jemma. “I just need to…”

For someone shaking as badly as he is, Donnie draws his gun with surprising quickness and aims it in Jemma’s direction. Skye jumps forward, slamming her body against Donnie’s and the gun goes off, sounding like a shotgun blast in the small apartment. Skye drives her knee into Donnie’s solar plexus, wrestling him to the ground and swatting the gun out of his hand.

“What the fuck.” Skye growls, pulling the cuffs from his own belt, jerking his arms behind his back. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry.” Skye doesn’t feel particularly inclined to believe him. Nor does she feel much sympathy for the tears dropping onto his cheeks. “I…they said it would be easy and I would just have to…they told me…”

But Skye has more important things on her mind than figuring out who told Donnie what. She gets to her feet, whirling around in the direction of the couch. Jemma is on the floor and Skye feels her heart stop for one horrifying moment, unable to do anything other than croak out the other woman’s name. It isn’t until Jemma lifts her head, offering her a tremulous smile that Skye feels her body sag in relief. “Oh thank god.” She whispers, exhaling.

Skye pulls Jemma to her feet, hugging her close, desperate to ascertain that she’s alright and whole after all. She presses a brief, fleeting kiss against Jemma’s lips before forcing herself to move away, to deal with the issue at hand. It’s better anyway, going through the motions of calling Coulson and explaining what happened, of getting her next orders. It makes it easier to keep from focusing on what could have just happened; it makes it easier to keep from imaging the bullet in Jemma instead of buried in the wall.

Those are definitely not the type of thoughts Skye wants to entertain.

\----------

“He says someone working for Pope approached him with the information about where you guys were staying.” Coulson explains to Skye and Ward, currently gathered in his office. “And offered him a lot of money to take care of Jemma.”

It’s not like Ward’s presence is absolutely necessary but no one could dissuade him from hanging around after he found out about what happened only an hour before. They are partners, after all and Skye doesn’t mind having him there. Her anxiety is due more to the fact that Jemma is currently locked in one of the interrogation rooms for her own safety while Skye tries to sort this mess out with Coulson.

“He won’t say who it was though.” Coulson continues, shaking his head. “Damn it.”

“Not yet.” Ward assures him. “Let me get in there and talk at him.”

Coulson seems not to have heard him. “I didn’t want to believe it was true.” He mutters. “That Pope was controlling people inside our own organization. Jesus. I mean, how far does this thing go?”

Skye is less interested in figuring out the wolves in their herd and is more interested in figuring out how they’re going to keep Jemma safe now. Because clearly SRD isn’t going to be content just letting the whole thing die down; she’s still a threat and she needs to be eliminated.

“Sir,” Skye says, shifting in her seat, desperate to be done with this, “what, exactly, is the plan now? For Jemma?”

Coulson blinks, almost as though he hadn’t put any thought into that. Clearly his focus has been solely on figuring out who they can trust and who is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “I…another safe house I guess.” He shrugs. “There are others, now that that one has been compromised.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Skye shakes her head. “It’ll just get back to Pope again anyway. We just have to assume that everyone is dangerous until proven otherwise.”

“So what do you suggest then?” Coulson questions and his tone isn’t frustrated or patronizing. Instead, he sounds genuinely curious, desperate for a solution.

“My apartment.” Skye says. “No one would ever expect that we would put her there. You could even make it seem like we’re going to another one of the safe houses and try and use that false information to ferret out the people working with SRD. It’s like a hiding in plain sight kinda thing.”

Coulson just shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He says. “The safe houses are safe for a reason. There’s precautions and fortifications. Your apartment is just…there’s too many variables to consider.”

“Well, all your precautions didn’t exactly stop Donnie from walking through the front door and trying to shoot Jemma.” Skye points out, arching an eyebrow.

“I agree with Skye, sir.” Ward interjects and Skye tries to hide her look of surprise. “It’s just the old bait and switch. No one would assume that we’d be stupid enough to hide a witness in the apartment of one of our own detectives.”

Skye isn’t sure if she’s supposed to be offended or not.

“And, like Skye said, we could try and trace the leak.” Ward shrugs. “Two birds, one stone.”

And that’s how Skye ends up back in her own humble abode after thirteen days in the safe house. She’s definitely glad to be home but she’d kinda hoped that she’d return under better circumstances.

“Ta da.” Skye says, a hint of self-consciousness in her tone, as she opens the door and gestures for Jemma to step inside.

Unfortunately, the magical apartment fairy hasn’t shown up in the past thirteen days and her apartment looks exactly the way it did when she left it. She was in a hurry to get her stuff together and leave, so she feels like that’s at least something of an excuse. There’s an old pizza box still sitting on the counter with some dishes that she totally would have washed after she used them if she knew she’d eventually be bringing someone over.

Skye tries to straighten up as quickly as she can, grabbing up the clothes she discarded the other day and throwing them back into the bedroom. Thankfully there’s not a whole lot of space to keep up with.

“I…” Skye shrugs, trying to jam the pizza box into the trashcan. “Wasn’t really expecting company.”

Jemma just smiles at her, beckoning Skye to leave her cleaning efforts and come over. Which Skye does willingly. “It’s quite alright.” Jemma assures her. “Thank you for…well…everything.” She says, pressing a kiss to Skye’s cheek. “Putting yourself in danger.”

“I laugh in the face of danger.” Skye assures her but before she can do exactly that, Jemma silences her with a kiss.

“Don’t make fun.” Jemma chides softly. “It’s…it’s terrifying. And they aren’t even after you. You’re not the one they want to-”

“Hey, hey.” Skye says, resting her hand against Jemma’s cheek. “No one is going to hurt you. Okay? I promise. You’re safe.”

Jemma sighs, resting her forehead against Skye’s. “You sound so certain.”

Skye winks. “It’s kinda my job.” Jemma rolls her eyes and Skye just kisses her again. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

Obviously she wishes that she had met Jemma under different circumstances. She wishes that things were different in Jemma’s life, that her best friend hadn’t been killed in front of her, that the career that she had made for herself and was passionate about hadn’t been snatched away. But Skye can’t help but think, selfishly, that at least they were able to meet at all. And now that that’s happened, she’s not inclined to let the opportunity slip away.

* * * *

They order pizza because Skye doesn’t have the supplies or the energy to cook and she tries to do a little bit more cleaning while Jemma explores the hodgepodge of personal items that she keeps in her apartment. Jemma picks up one of the few pictures that Skye has on her mantle and studies the worn image before holding up the frame for Skye to see. “Are these your parents?”

Skye looks at the picture, even though she already knows exactly which one Jemma is holding. It’s the only picture like that she has; she’s nine years old, smiling and so, so happy.

“I…” Skye sighs and takes the frame, resting her finger on the glass. “They used to be.”

Jemma looks at her quizzically but doesn’t push the issue. Skye sets the picture back on the mantle. “I…they adopted me when I was three years old. And then, when I was nine, she shot him because she thought he was cheating on her.”

There’s a reason Skye doesn’t tell anyone this story. There’s a reason that she tells people that she was in the system but skips over the period of her life when she was a happy child, with a family and a bedroom and parents. She still has their last name but no one ever stops long enough to think about where it came from. There’s no easy way to explain what happened; there’s no way to ease into the explanation that her foster mother spent two months steadily unraveling until she got to the point where it made perfect sense to shoot her husband in the chest while their foster daughter did her homework in the next room. So Skye just avoids the subject all together, because it’s better for everyone.

Jemma’s eyes widen in surprise but she manages to look far less blindsided by Skye’s words than Skye would have thought. Maybe there’s a certain amount of jading that comes with seeing your friend shot and killed in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” Jemma says softly, taking Skye’s hand in hers and rubbing her thumb along her knuckles. “I can’t even imagine.”

Skye just shrugs because she thinks it kinda goes without saying.

“Is that why you wanted to be a detective?” Jemma questions, looking up at Skye. “Because of what happened with your parents?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Skye mutters. “I couldn’t do anything then but now it feels like…trying to figure out the real story and figure out what happened…like it helps. And making sure that the people who are responsible get punished…I don’t know it sounds stupid. But it made perfect sense when I was trying to figure out what the heck I was supposed to do with my life.”

“I think it makes sense now.” Jemma assures her, giving her hand a squeeze. “I think it’s wonderful. And I’m sure that you’re an amazing detective when you aren’t stuck on babysitting duty.”

Skye laughs and shakes her head. “It’s not babysitting.” She corrects. “It’s…getting acquainted with the witness.”

Jemma smirks. “Oh, is that what’s going on here?” She brushes her lips against Skye’s. “Just getting acquainted with the witness?”

“It’s a very important part of the job.” Skye assures her. “And I’m willing to go above and beyond the call of duty.”

Jemma just laughs, resting her head against Skye’s shoulder and draping her arms around her waist. Skye chuckles too, shaking her head. “Yeah, that was kinda cheesy, right?”

“Yes,” Jemma nods, lifting her head, “I believe you can do better.”

There’s a knock on the door and Jemma smirks. “Saved by the bell.” She teases.

“Pizza: the perfect distraction.” Skye steps away from Jemma, grabbing her bag as she walks toward the door.

She opens the door and frowns. “You are not pizza.”

Ward shrugs. “Well now that I know there will be pizza in the future I’m doubly happy that I came by.”

Skye steps aside to let Ward into the apartment. “Just coming by to check on us, partner?” She questions, rolling her eyes.

“Well and for the pizza, of course.”

As if summoned by Ward’s comment, there’s another knock on the door and this time when Skye opens it, she finds herself face to face with a scrawny kid holding a giant pizza box. Her stomach rumbles embarrassingly loud and she hopes that no one notices. Apparently all this witness protecting and assailant takedown stuff can work up quite the appetite.

“I can get the plates?” Jemma gives Skye a questioning glance and Skye directs her to the appropriate cabinet.

Skye flips open the box, grabbing a slice of pizza. “But who needs plates?” Skye smirks, glancing over at Ward.

He doesn’t return her smile and Skye arches an eyebrow. “Give the serious detective face a rest, Ward.” She scolds. “We’ve got pizza.”

Ward just sighs. “Look, Skye, it’ll be easier if you just get out of the way and let me get this over with.”

Skye looks at him curiously. “What are you talking about?”

“You weren’t supposed get involved, not like this.” Ward doesn’t look at her when he withdraws his sidearm.

“Ward!”

He fires just as Skye grabs his wrist, jerking his arm closer toward her in an effort to throw his aim off. Something in the kitchen shatters and Jemma lets out a cry of surprise but Skye doesn’t have the chance to see if Jemma is okay or not. She’s too busy trying to use the weight of her body to pull Ward off his center of gravity, too busy trying to drag them both down to the floor. All her training about how to take down an armed and dangerous assailant seems to have flown right out her head and she can’t think about style and form. All she can think about is taking him down.

Which is definitely not easy. Ward is twice the size of Donnie, far heftier and better trained. He throws Skye off easily and she hits the ground, groaning as a pain flares through her elbow. She rolls herself onto her knees, grabbing at Ward’s legs and ankles because it’s the first thing she can think to reach.

“Skye.” He grunts, kicking back at her. He catches her in the chest, sending her sprawling backward. “You’re my partner. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t do this Ward.” Skye gasps, struggling to regain her breath. “Please.”

But Ward just ignores her. He lifts his gun again, aiming in the direction of the kitchen. But Jemma is no where to be seen and Skye feels a brief wave of relief. Of course, the apartment really isn’t that big. It’s not like there are that many places to run.

Though it seems plenty big when she realizes that her gun is on the coffee table and Ward is between her and it. She is so not cut out for this body guard business.

“Damn it.” Ward grumbles, shaking his head. He moves toward the kitchen, peering around one side of the island. “This could have been over already if-”

Jemma pops up from the other side of the counter, brandishing the fire extinguisher that Skye put under her sink when she moved in and promptly forgot about. She swings the extinguisher at Ward but he catches it before it can connect, shoving Jemma backward. She hits the side of the cabinets with a heavy thud.

Skye forces herself to her feet again and catches Ward by surprise, once again trying to pull them both down to the floor. She’s more successful this time, bringing him down to his knees and knocking the gun from his grasp. Ward flips her over his shoulder and the air whooshes out of her lungs when she hits ground.

Skye tries to reach for the gun but Ward grabs her, using one arm to keep her wrist pressed to the ground and the other around her throat. “Damn it, Skye.” He mutters, shaking his head. “It wasn’t personal until you made it personal. Don’t forget that.”

Ward tightens his grip around her throat and Skye gapes at him, trying to pry his fingers away with her free hand. Not personal? She’s going to kick his ass if he doesn’t kill her first.

“Stop.” Jemma’s voice cuts through the bells that Skye suddenly hears ringing in her ears. “Take your hands off her. Now.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Skye can see Jemma standing there, leveling Ward’s own gun in his direction. Skye gasps when Ward’s grip on her throat lessens and tears prick her eyes. 

“Look,” Ward says, his face becoming placid, his voice gentle, “let’s just calm down.”

Skye stumbles to her feet and comes to stand beside Jemma, gently taking the gun away from her shaking hands. “It’s okay.” She says softly, her voice straining. She narrows her eyes as she looks at Ward. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot you. Nothing personal.”

* * * *

Skye watches as Coulson personally escorts Ward into the back of a police car, trying to figure out what happened to her life over the past two weeks. She figures that over the next few hours that she’ll have plenty of time to digest the fact that her partner has actually been in Alexander Pope’s pocket this whole time and that he just tried to kill her. But, for now, she doesn’t really feel much of anything at all.

“Nice trick.” Skye remarks when Jemma comes over to sit beside her, a blanket draped around her shoulders. “Getting the gun.”

Jemma offers her a tentative smile. “Someone once told me that drawing the gun is usually enough to make people stop and reevaluate their life choices.”

Skye just smiles, resting her head on Jemma’s shoulder. She’s pretty sure that she could sleep for the next two weeks, just to make up the events of the past two.

Unfortunately, both she and Jemma end up having to spend the night in the station, safe and snug on the floor in Coulson’s office. Just to be on the safe side. Just until they can figure out who else is feeding information to Pope and the other SRD board members. Just until they can figure out their next step. Skye sleeps a lot deeper than she would have imagined; apparently having Jemma in her arms is enough to make up for the hard floor and the near death experiences.

Rather than facing Ward, Skye stands outside the interrogation room, watching as Tripp uses his bravado in an effort to intimidate the other detective into talking. Skye knows that it’s not going to work; Ward isn’t going to say anything unless he decides to.

“This whole time.” Skye mutters to Coulson, shaking her head. “He’s been working for them the whole time.”

“There are definitely a few things that are starting to make more sense.” Coulson remarks. “The witnesses that have just disappeared, evidence that never came to fruition. The feeling that SRD was always one step ahead of us…”

“I can’t believe it.” Skye grits her teeth, curling her hands into fists. “He was my partner. I should have…I don’t know. I should have figured it out.”

Coulson puts his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile. “It wasn’t just you. He was on my squad. None of us had any idea.”

“I want to talk to him.” Skye decides suddenly, straightening her posture. “Just for a minute. Tripp isn’t getting anywhere with him anyway.”

Even though Coulson attempts to dissuade her, Skye eventually gets her way and swaps out with Tripp, who just gives her a pitying look on his way out. Ward looks at her and sighs, smirking as he shakes his head.

Skye isn’t surprised when she doesn’t really get anywhere with Ward. That really wasn’t the point of coming in here; she doubts that anyone will be able to get much out of Ward. She just wanted to sit across from him and see if he could look her in the eye.

He can’t.

But as Skye finally gets up to leave, Ward calls her back and Skye keeps the unimpressed, impassive look on her face. “They’re going to be after you now, you know.” He tells her. “I was trying to help you.”

“Really? Well helping me sure seemed a lot like trying to kill my…” What, exactly, is Jemma? And does it matter? “Jemma.”

“Someone will.” Ward tells her. “Pope isn’t just going to let Coulson continue building this case.”

Skye shrugs. “I think I’ll be okay.”

Even though she definitely knows that he has a point. And his words definitely have an ominous ring to them. But Skye isn’t going to let him see that it gets to her.

But she shares Ward’s observation with Coulson anyway and doesn’t feel any better when he just nods and sighs. “Yeah, I was worried about that.”

* * * *

Skye watches Jemma from across the room, studying the woman as she leisurely combs out her damp hair. In some ways, Skye feels like she knows Jemma better than she’s ever known anyone else before. But there are so many other ways that Jemma is still a stranger to her and Skye wonders if she’ll get the chance to know the things about Jemma that she doesn’t yet. If she’ll be able to know where she goes when she gets that faraway look in her eyes, if she’ll learn all the little things. David Brody knew exactly how his wife took her coffee. He knew how many ice cubes to put in her glass of water. He knew her favorite restaurants and perfumes. Sarah Brody always saved the comics for her husband, tucking them inside the financial pages. She cooked his favorite meal when he had a bad day at work. Skye has never had anyone in her life that made her want to learn things like favorite colors and animals and restaurants and all that crap. She wonders if she’ll eventually figure those things out about Jemma.

It’s not like they don’t have plenty of time to do the whole getting to know you dance. This beachside bungalow is Coulson’s current plan for keeping them safe and off of Pope’s radar. They’re lying low under an alias while Skye Brody and Jemma Simmons are doing a little jet setting, though each paper trail will eventually come up empty. Skye just hopes that her talents with the computer are really as good as she thinks they are.

They’ve only been here for a few days but already it feels like paradise. Already it feels like they have all the time in the world. Skye is trying not to let herself get too comfortable though. She’s sure that before too much longer she’ll be getting a call from Coulson, coupled with the command to pack their bags and head to another country. Or to return to New York so Jemma can finally take the witness stand. Skye isn’t sure which one she’s dreading more.

“You’re staring.” Jemma’s voice breaks Skye’s reverie and returns her to the present. There’s a smirk playing on the corners of Jemma’s lips and she sets her comb aside. “Just what is so interesting, detective?” 

Skye just smiles at her, shaking her head slightly. “Do you ever wonder…if things hadn’t happened the way that they did…if we would…you know…”

Jemma moves across the room, dropping down onto the bed beside Skye. “I don’t know.” She says. “Probably not. I didn’t afford myself a lot of time for dating before.”

“Not even for beautiful detectives?” Skye teases.

Jemma smirks, no doubt taking the opportunity to silently tease her about her choice of adjectives. “I might have been able to make an exception...”

Skye smiles when Jemma kisses her but that particular train of thought still nags in the back of her mind. “Seriously, though.” She says when she pulls away from Jemma. “Do you think this is one of those opportunistic type things and-”

Jemma shuts her up pretty efficiently with another kiss and Skye is less inclined to argue than she was a few moments before. “Well, we’ll just have to see when this is all over.” Jemma remarks and Skye likes the way that she sounds confident about the outcome.

But that confidence disappears when Jemma questions, “Because this won’t last forever, right? It won’t always be like this, will it?” She pauses and then adds, “It can’t.”

Skye shakes her head, even though she isn’t so sure about that answer. She pulls Jemma to her, kissing her forehead. “No. We’ll get them.”

Jemma nods, seemingly reassured for the time being. Or, if nothing else, satisfied with the half-truth. Skye smiles at her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” She assures Jemma. She’s only said those words out loud once or twice but she’s found herself thinking them quite frequently, as though constantly repeating the idea will make it true.

Once again, Jemma nods, offering Skye a smile of her own. “I know.”

And the conviction that Skye hears in her voice is almost enough to make Skye start believing that herself.

Skye leans it to kiss Jemma once more and asks, “So what’s your favorite color?” because you’ve got to start somewhere, right?


End file.
